


Thirst

by sophinisba



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Gen, Hobbits, Quest, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-27
Updated: 2006-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four quiet little snippets about Merry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirst

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Dana for betaing.
> 
> This is one of my favorites of my own fics.

"Have a drink of water, won't you, Pippin? It'll do you no good to drink only beer."

Pippin rolled his eyes. "And it'll do you no good to worry about what everyone else is eating or drinking. Bad for the digestion, that."

"These mugs are larger than what you're used to."

"I noticed!" Pippin grinned, and took another tug. "And I believe that now we've finished our supper we should move on to the common-room to see what other marvels this place has to offer."

Merry saw Frodo brighten at that while Sam, for all that he had enjoyed his beer from the first, looked like he'd prefer that they all head back to their rooms about now. Sam wouldn't be one to say so though.

"Frodo," Merry said, "don't you think you could set a better example for our young cousin? Keep up this rate and before we know it the two of you will be singing and dancing on tables and drawing all kinds of -- "

"Merry," Pippin interrupted, "Frodo's had a difficult day. Well, we all have, of course. But what I mean is, if you need to nag and lecture me, that's one thing. But Frodo's the oldest and he's our fearless leader. He doesn't need you looking out for him and telling him what to do."

"And Merry needs you telling _him_ what to do even less," Frodo teased. "Don't scold him, Pippin. Merry's probably right. Let's sit for a while and drink some water then, and after that whoever wants to join the company can do so, and whoever doesn't..." He smiled at them all as he spoke, but the smile was somewhat strained, Merry thought, as if Frodo were doing his best to keep the peace. And Merry hadn't meant to cause trouble, but he liked knowing that Frodo was listening to him at least. Merry smiled his thanks, and so did Sam.

Pippin scowled, but only a little, and the tension seemed to ease as they sat and talked, which they hadn't really had a chance to do during the meal. When Pippin had finished his water he set the glass down very properly and said, "There, Merry, I've been a very good hobbit. Now may I please have your permission to visit the common-room and drink some ale?"

"You may," Merry said, "but keep an eye on Frodo for me. He's a wild one, you know."

"Won't you come with us?" said Frodo, but Merry said no, he needed some time to think and he needed some air.

Later Pippin said, "All that fuss, and you were the one who needed someone keeping an eye on. You should have stayed inside with us."

"We made out all right in the end."

"Yes, but I think from now on we should do our best to stick together."

Merry nodded. "I think you're right about that, Pip."

* * *

"But is it really as terrible as all that?" Pippin asked. Merry had noticed that Pippin always seemed to go to Boromir when he was curious about something but also a little afraid to know it. Perhaps if he heard bad news from Boromir he could still tell himself it might not all be true.

The three of them knelt at the stream, filling Sam's cookware and everyone's flasks with clean, cold water. Their fingers were red from the cold but Merry and Pippin pretended they were not bothered. The hobbits always made this effort not to complain when they were around any of the others, as much as they grumbled among themselves.

"We hobbits are very tough, you know," Pippin said. "We _like_ to have our fill, but we can go without much food and drink if the need arises. I will go with Frodo as far as he needs me."

Merry could have said something to him about not pestering Boromir or about not boasting. But since deep down he was just as curious, just as proud, and just as determined to stick with Frodo to the bitter end, he kept silent and waited for Boromir's answer instead.

"If Frodo decides to continue into Mordor, he will need to go in utmost secrecy, and he won't have much use for you or the rest of us. It would be better for you, and perhaps for Frodo as well, to come with me to Minas Tirith."

"So you've said, Boromir, and from what you say it's a very lovely place and I hope I shall see it someday," Pippin said politely. "But won't you tell us about Mordor? Why should we be so afraid to go there?"

"What streams there are in that land," he gestured at the clean water rushing in front of them, "are but slow trickles, and the water is not fit to drink. It only increases a man's thirst, and dooms him never to leave."

"A man's thirst, perhaps," said Pippin. "But what about a hobbit's? Has a hobbit ever even tried?"

"If so he has not lived to tell of it."

"But surely," said Merry, who'd had a look at some of Elrond's maps, and who did not like tall men telling tall tales to frighten him and his young cousin, "there must be water in the Ephel Dúath, as there is in all mountains. And Mount Doom is not so very far from there. Even if what you say is true, we need only stock up on food and water before we cross the high pass, and then move quickly once we are within the borders." He nodded firmly and, he hoped, reassuringly at Pippin, who nodded back with a good deal less certainty.

But Boromir shook his head. "You would do better," he repeated, "to come with me to Minas Tirith."

* * *

On the third day after Pippin and the others left, Merry, wandering through narrow streets of the fifth level, came upon a half-hidden courtyard with a small fountain. Six spigots radiated from the center, surrounded and an empty pool with mosaic tiles along the bottom, a picture of blue water, green leaves, and golden fish, though the colors were faded and many of the tiles chipped or missing. Merry sat down on the edge of the fountain and thought that in a moment he might take out the book Faramir had leant him, but for now he was content to sit and rest, grateful for the quiet.

"No good coming here for your water," a woman told him, standing in the doorway of a butcher's shop. "The pipes were wrecked during the siege. Won't be fixed till the men come back from the battle."

"It's all right," said Merry. "I brought water with me." He touched his pack absently. Looking at the dry taps made him thirsty, but something told him it would be rude to pull out his flask while the woman still stared at him. There was a dry, unsatisfied look to her, and something in her eyes that looked to be searching. Merry looked away.

"My husband's gone with them," she said, "and no one will say when they might come back. It's not hard for me to run the shop by myself, not with so little to sell, and with so few coming to the courtyard now there's no water. And I... I understand it's war and in war the men go off, and that it's for Gondor and all of that. I just wish they'd tell us how long. How long till he'll be back and how long till they fix the pipes and we get our customers back."

"It's a little lonely," Merry agreed, choosing not to address the question of how long, how long till he might see Pippin, and how very long since he'd seen Frodo and Sam. He thought about taking out his book to signal an end to the conversation. He thought about getting up and moving on with his exploration of the city, but he didn't move. And the woman didn't move from her doorway.

"You fought on the Pelennor," she said. "I heard them tell. And that's why you move the way you do, with your arm hanging at your side. My husband fought here in the city while they sent us womenfolk away. And then they let us come back, and I was only with him for two days before they called him away again."

"Yes," said Merry. "That is how long I had to spend with my kinsman as well. He fought here in the city, and now he has gone off with the other soldiers. But he is not a soldier. He is only a hobbit and not yet come of age, and I should not have let him go."

"Was it up to you though? No one asked me if I wanted to let him go."

"No one asked me either, lady."

He explored no further that day, but sat there for a while in silence and then went back to his room in the Houses of Healing, where he sat alone on his bed and wept.

* * *

By the time Merry arrived, Pippin still would not open his eyes or speak, but with help he was able to sit up in bed and drink from the cup Merry held to his lips. Sometimes after he drank his lips still moved, and Merry thought that, whether consciously or not, Pippin recognized the voice, the hands, the touch of the one who was taking care of him.

Frodo and Sam would still choke if anyone tried to make them drink from a cup. So Merry would sit by them for hours, patiently dipping his fingers in water and then between their cracked dry lips. He remembered when Pippin had been a baby, how Frodo had shown him to do this, dipping his fingers in warm milk. And Merry, at the time, had been awed at once by Frodo's knowledge and by Pippin's ability to sleep and drink at the same time.

At first he was disturbed to find himself talking to them as one does to a baby -- caring deeply, telling the truth, but not actually expecting to be understood. "There now," he would say, running his fingers over Frodo's parched lips with cool water, "that feels good, doesn't it? I can't imagine how thirsty you've been, but that's all over with now. This one tastes bitter," he would say, coming back with the oil the healers called _neem_, "but it keeps the moisture in and it'll heal your lips where you've bled, or so they tell me." He didn't talk that way when their other friends or the healers were around, but the hours did drag on, and Merry grew used to his own murmuring, uninterrupted voice. He stayed with the three sleeping hobbits throughout each day, while the others came and went. He walked from cot to cot and tended to each, speaking low. He had a cot in the same tent with theirs and at night he would sleep lightly, for sometimes Pippin would cry out with his nightmares and Merry would always go to him and talk him back into a deeper, calmer sleep.

After a few more days Pippin opened his eyes for a few minutes, and Merry cried a little but controlled himself, wanting Pippin to see that he was happy. The day after that, though no other part of him moved, Frodo sucked lightly at Merry's fingers. "That's a good sign, I think," he said to Pippin, though all of them were sleeping again. He spoke mainly to Pippin now, since he was the one who drifted in and out of sleep. "Soon enough Frodo and Sam will be back with us as well. And then, Pippin, we shall have a great feast. Won't that be lovely? With everything any of us should want to eat and drink, as long as it's something they've brought out here. You and I shall be serving our sires, and we'll serve these two as well, and then we can start fattening them up again."

Later Pippin said, "You talked a lot of nonsense when you thought we couldn't hear you."

"It wasn't nonsense," Merry said. "But I suppose I'm used to you talking back and telling me when I've gone too far."

"Well, it's good we're all awake and together and talking again then."

"You are right as always," said Merry, and they held each other close.


End file.
